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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468025">New Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning66/pseuds/Morning66'>Morning66</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Boy Meets World</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:03:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning66/pseuds/Morning66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On their first Monday in New York, Topanga puts on a pantsuit and kisses Cory on the cheek while he and Shawn try to do the crossword on the back of the Froot Loops box in their boxers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shawn Hunter/Cory Matthews, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews/Cory Matthews</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>New Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! :))</p><p>I didn't really proof this much so sorry for any errors. I might go back and do that later.</p><p>Warnings: kinda infidelity?? Mostly like emotional idk</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On their first Monday in New York, Topanga puts on a pantsuit and kisses Cory on the cheek while he and Shawn try to do the crossword on the back of the Froot Loops box in their boxers.<br/><br/>"Wish me luck, Cory," she says and he turns and returns the cheek kiss.<br/><br/>"Go get 'em," he answers and she walks out with a bounce in her step.<br/><br/>Shawn, mouth filled with cereal, says, "Sometimes I don't know how you nabbed that one, Cor."<br/><br/>"Me neither, Shawn. Me neither."<br/><br/>An hour later and with significantly more clothes on, Shawn, Cory, and Eric set off to find jobs. When they get to the bottom of the apartment, Eric goes right and Shawn and Cory go left, a bounce in their step.<br/><br/>"Jobs, here we come!" Cory calls and while Shawn secretly thinks he's a little too excited about the types of jobs two college dropouts can get, he smiles anyway.<br/><br/>They do not find jobs that morning. They ask at approximately three places and are rejected approximately three times and then call it a day and instead buy hotdogs at a hotdog stand because Cory's heard New York hotdogs are great and enormous.<br/><br/>They are, it turns out. They find a place selling them five for four dollars and down them on a street corner, splitting the last one. Cory spends a good deal of the walk back to the apartment pretending to be a pigeon which involves a lot of big steps and head bobbing and elicits several stares. Shawn just laughs, a warm feeling settling over his body.<br/><br/>New York is pretty nice, he thinks.<br/><br/>When they get back to the apartment, Topanga is boiling water for pasta and Eric is jumping around the apartment in glee.<br/><br/>"Guess who got a job?" he yells when he sees them. "Me! The Ericster! The Eric-i-nator!"<br/><br/>"You didn't," Cory says in disbelief.<br/><br/>But, it turns out he did. At some sort of sales firm with a starting salary of twenty an hour, which is just ridiculous because who word hire Eric to work for twenty an hour selling stuff? Who would hire Eric<br/><br/>"This can't be happening," Cory says. "Pinch me, Shawn."<br/><br/>Shawn pinches his arm. Nothing happens.<br/><br/>"I take it you two didn't find one?" Topanga asks, pouring spaghetti out of the box and into the boiling water.<br/><br/>"Not yet," Shawn agrees.<br/><br/>Topanga pats Cory's arm. "I'm sure you will soon."<br/><br/><br/>***<br/><br/>By the end of the first week, they do find jobs.<br/><br/>It's on accident Shawn spots it, a sign in a grungy looking diner fifteen minutes from their place. Two night cooks needed, no experience necessary.<br/><br/>Shawn grins and points to it and Cory's eyes grow wide. The owner is a fat, balding man with scar above his eye who asks only if they're willing to work nights. They both nod like bobble heads and they've got the job.<br/><br/>When they tell Topanga, she's less than thrilled. "Do either of you even know how to cook?" She asks them, incredulity evident in her voice.<br/><br/>"Shawn can make instant ramen in a coffee pot," Cory supplies. "He did it all the time in college."<br/><br/>"Yeah," Shawn says. "You thought it was good, didn't you, Cor?"<br/><br/>Cory nods enthusiastically. "Best ramen I've ever tasted."<br/><br/>Topanga looks at the menu. "I don't see ramen on the menu."<br/><br/>"Lay off them, Topanga," Eric calls from the couch. "Not like you need to cook to be a cook. I mean, c'mon!"<br/><br/>Cory, Topanga, and Shawn share a look and shake their heads.<br/><br/>"Look, Topanga, Shawn and I'll figure this out. We're not idiots. We can use a stove."<br/><br/>"I never said you were," Topanga says, placing a comforting hand on Cory's arm. "I'm sure it'll  work out fine."<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>The first time isn't fine, but that's okay.<br/><br/>It turns out diner fare isn't the same as cooking ramen noodles in a coffee maker or Cory's specialty: cereal and milk.<br/><br/>Shawn, well, Shawn's adaptable. He's an idiot savant, okay? He figures it out pretty quick. Put hamburger patty on stove. Flip hamburger patty. Put fries in fryer. Remove food and put on plate. Rinse and repeat.<br/><br/>Cory is many things, but adaptable has never been one of them. He spends half the time time searching for an instructions manual for the milkshake machine and the other half squawking like a chicken, running back and forth between various appliances.<br/><br/>"Is he always like this?" One of the waitresses asks, a girl about their age with bleached blonde hair and a name tag that says Anna.<br/><br/>Shawn shrugs and gives her a grin. "Mostly."<br/><br/>She cocks her eyebrow. "Gonna be interesting," she says and takes table five's tray from him.<br/><br/>By the time the sun is rising, Cory can cook a hotdog without catching it on fire and Shawn's able to flip a burger, spin around, and catch the burger.<br/><br/>"Show off," Cory says as Shawn does it for him, but he's grinning. Anna the waitress claps from the doorway, bringing back a stack of dirty dishes.<br/><br/>Shawn rolls his eyes at him and does a little bow and Cory finally claps which he considers a victory.<br/><br/>When they finish at seven, the sun's just starting to glint off the buildings, the heat already starting to creep towards unbearable. They walk back to their apartment with droopy eyes, smiles, and takeout bags with leftover cheeseburgers and fries which they're eating at the table when Topanga hops out of the shower, combing her wet hair.<br/><br/>"You're back," Topanga says.<br/><br/>"We are," Cory agrees. He gets up and kisses her on the lips. It's quick and she breaks it off frowning.<br/><br/>"You taste like Chubbie's," she notes, sniffing the air.<br/><br/>"Really?" Cory says, excited. "That's probably the best compliment you've ever given me!"<br/><br/>Topanga purses her lips and looks like she's holding back a frown.<br/><br/>"We've got extra cheeseburgers if you want some," Shawn offers, sensing some tension.<br/><br/>Topanga shakes her head. "I think I better go put on my makeup."<br/><br/>"Good idea," Cory says, still sniffing at his breath. Topanga sighs and turns on her heels for the bathroom.<br/><br/>When Topanga's gone, Shawn hisses, "You're supposed to tell her she looks good without makeup."<br/><br/>"Who's the married man? I know how to talk to my wife," Cory says and Shawn scoffs inwardly. Yeah, right. "Now, hand me a cheeseburger, darling?"<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>They settle into a routine after that. Shawn and Cory work nights at the diner, getting home just before Topanga and Eric are leaving for work. They spend the day sleeping for the most part, waking up in the afternoon. They all spend the evening together, eating dinner and watching TV until Shawn and Cory  go to work.<br/><br/>It's got a nice rhythm to it, Shawn has to say. He likes working in the restaurant, likes the smell of grease and cooking food, Cory's laughter and hushed exclamations next to him. It feels warm and comforting, a reminder of a simpler time. Cory likes it too. Shawn can tell from his easy grin, the way there's a light in his eyes that Shawn forgot existed.<br/><br/>The only one who doesn't like it is Topanga. She doesn't say much, but Shawn can tell by the way she turns her nose at the grease scent they bring home, the way she points out new jobs she's seen advertised on bulletin boards and poles.<br/><br/>Cory doesn't get it. When she tells him he smells like grease, he shrugs and says he and Shawn will shower. When she points out other opportunities, Cory responds that he really likes the job he has, thank you very much.<br/><br/>Shawn, though, Shawn thinks he gets it.<br/><br/>"When was the last time you two had sex?" Shawn asks when he and Cory are watching TV one afternoon.<br/><br/>Watching TV when they wake up has quickly become a part of their routine. They set their alarms for three in the afternoon, brush their teeth standing next to each other, and sit on the couch, devouring sugary cereal from the box and watching the grainy television they brought from Philadelphia.<br/><br/>Cory jerks next to Shawn at the question, obviously not expecting it. "What?"<br/><br/>"You heard me. When was the last time you and Topanga had sex?"<br/><br/>Sure, it might be a little personal, but Shawn and Cory are personal. There's virtually no topic off limits between them.<br/><br/>Cory's face scrunches up the way it's always done when he's thinking. "It's been awhile"<br/><br/>"A couple weeks?"<br/><br/>Cory shrugs, picks at a string on his pajama pants.</p><p>"Since we've been in New York?" Shawn asks, but he knows. The apartment is small, the wall between the bedroom is thin. Most nights they're gone working and when they're not, he hasn't heard anything.<br/><br/>"Yeah," Cory agrees. "I guess so. You think that's what she's mad about?"<br/><br/>"Cor. You're married. That's what married people do."<br/><br/>"It's not like we were ever that good at it," Cory says, throwing a handful of Frosted Flakes into his mouth. "You can't talk, Shawn. When was the last time you went out with a girl?"<br/><br/>Shawn's still on the first part of the sentence, so Cory gives his bicep a poke. Shawn shrugs. "Not since Angela," he acknowledges.<br/><br/>"See? Topanga and I are fine. You're the one who needs help in the romance department." Cory waggles his fingers when he says romance department.<br/><br/>"I don't need help," Shawn argues. "I'm Mr. Romance. Did you forget all those girlfriends I had?"<br/><br/>"That was in the past. You've lost your touch, Shawn."<br/><br/>"Take that back," Shawn says, turning on Cory.<br/><br/>Cory grins, shaking his head. Shawn grins back and gives him a shove. Cory shoves him back and in retaliation Shawn tackles him to the couch, pushing him down so they both end up horizontal, Shawn on top of Cory.<br/><br/>"You're heavy," Cory says, giggling and shifts over towards the edge so Shawn can roll off of him. He ends up pinned between Cory and the couch, his stomach flush against Cory's back, flesh on flesh because both their shirts have ridden up.<br/><br/>Shawn props his head on the arm of the couch and rests a hand on Cory's side. The TV has changed to episode of a comedy show they both like. This is nice, Shawn thinks, but nice in a way that makes his stomach uncomfortable because it shouldn't be nice.<br/><br/>When Shawn wrestles with Jack, it usually ends in one of them storming off, or, if it had been all in good fun, laughter and a handshake. When he and Cory wrestle, it usually ends in the both of them cuddled close, probably a little too close. Shawn's not sure what that means, only that he's always preferred it with Cory.<br/><br/>When they hear the door unlocking, they jolt apart quickly, instinctively, brushing off their clothes and putting a good six feet between them.<br/><br/>***</p><p><br/>Shawn does a lot of thinking about Cory's words, more thinking than the short exchange probably deserved.<br/><br/>Once, he'd been a ladies man. Once, he'd had a new girlfriend every two weeks max, and a date every Saturday night. Now, he hasn't been with a girl since Angela left and he spends most of his off nights watching lame movies with Cory and the gang.<br/><br/>It was amazing, really, how much he's changed.<br/><br/>He could say it was Angela, but if he was honest with himself, he knew it wasn't. He'd loved Angela. Hell, if he's truly being honest, he still loves Angela, but he's not sure he's in love with her. He was, once, but now it's dulled to a quiet thrum. Sure, he made a big deal about her leaving, but that was only after Cory gave his (bad) advice. He'd been okay with it before.<br/><br/>So if it's not Angela, Shawn wonders, then what is it?<br/><br/>Maybe it's not anything. Maybe he just got out of the habit and now he needs to get back to it. It's not like he doesn't have charm. If he had charm at fourteen, he must have some now.<br/><br/>Shawn decides maybe he'll try with Anna, the waitress who works nights with them. She's nice, funny in a sarcastic way, and always puts up with his and Cory's shit. You can't get much better than that, can you?<br/><br/>When he asks her out in the break room one night, summoning all his teenage charisma, she blinks and stares at him, looking confused.<br/><br/>"Shawn, I mean I like you, but," she says stiltingly.<br/><br/>"But what?"<br/><br/>She waves her hands around, gestures towards the door to the kitchen Cory's manning alone.<br/><br/>"You have a boyfriend?" Shawn asks. "I mean, we can keep it quiet."<br/><br/>"I thought you had a boyfriend," she says.<br/><br/>There are very few things that take Shawn completely by surprise, but that's one of them.  "What?" He spits out.<br/><br/>Anna gestures again toward the kitchen. "Cory?"</p><p> </p><p>It's not the first time someone's assumed something about their relationship, but it's definitely the first time in awhile.<br/><br/>"You think Cory and I are dating?"<br/><br/>Anna shrugs, tilts her head to the side. "You aren't?"<br/><br/>"No," Shawn says. "He's married."<br/><br/>Anna looks as if he's suggesting the moon is really made of cheese. "You're serious? I thought you two lived together."<br/><br/>"With his wife and brother."<br/><br/>"Shut, I'm sorry," Anna reaches out and pats his hand. "I shouldn't have assumed. You guys are just so close."<br/><br/>"Yeah," Shawn agrees. "Yeah."<br/><br/>When Cory asks how it went, Shawn shrugs. "She has a boyfriend," he says.<br/><br/>Cory makes a sad noise and puts an arm around Shawn's shoulder. "Sorry, buddy."<br/><br/>"It's okay, Cor," he says because it is. It's not like he had a thing for Anna, by any means. She was just there and not married to his best friend so.<br/><br/>Cory gives his shoulder another squeeze and Shawn can't help but think of Anna's words, of what this might look like to other people. He considers brushing off Cory's arm, but it feels nice there, safe and secure and gentle. It doesn't matter what Anna thought, he assures himself. They're Cory and Shawn.<br/><br/>Still, he doesn't tell Cory she thought they were dating. It's the kind of thing that might freak Cory out, send him into one of his downward tailspins.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>The first time it happens, they don't mean for it to.<br/><br/>It's a Friday in July and the heat is oppressive. There's a special kind of heat that comes with big old buildings that lack air conditioning, a kind of suffocating heat that can only be remedied by lying very still in a very dark room. It's not even really a remedy, more a bandaid, but sometimes a bandaid is all you got.<br/><br/>They come back from the walk home sweat soaked and drowsy, sluggish in a way they rarely are in the morning. When they get there, Topanga and Eric are already on their way out the door, briefcases in hand. Topanga pauses to kiss Cory on the mouth and give his cheek a stroke.<br/><br/>Laughing, Eric leans in. "Darling Cory, my dearest hubby boo boo," he mocks and Cory's not in the mood for it. He's not in the mood for anything right now, Shawn can tell.<br/><br/>"Shut up, Eric," Cory says, giving Eric a shove with fingers still covered in grease from the fryer, leaving stains on Eric's button up shirt.<br/><br/>"Hey, not cool," Eric says, staring at the stains that now grace his shirt. "I just ironed it, Cory."<br/><br/>Cory rolls his eyes. "Sorry," he snaps, not sounding sorry at all. "I forgot that you worked your fancy job with your fancy shirts now."<br/><br/>"Oh, get your panties out of a twist," Eric says, making a twisting motion to go with his statement. "I'll just change into the extra shirt I keep at the office."<br/><br/>"Oh, the office," Cory mocks. "I'm Eric and I've got an office."<br/><br/>He turns on his heels and heads for his and Topanga's room.<br/><br/>Eric shrugs and turns to leave. "Don't know what got into him. Well, as they say in Canada, sayonara suckers!"<br/><br/>Topanga sends the bedroom door a concerned look, then glances down at the briefcase clutched in her hand. "I've got to go," she says, sounding regretful. "Shawn, you'll--?"<br/><br/>"Yeah," Shawn agrees before she can finish.<br/><br/>Topanga gives him a grateful nod and leans forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek that's not much different from the kisses she gives Cory most days. "Thanks, Shawn."<br/><br/>Once Topanga's gone, Shawn knocks on the door to Cory's bedroom gently. "Cory?"<br/><br/>There's a grumble from inside, a vague shifting. "Can I come in?"<br/><br/>When there's no response, Shawn pulls the door open and steps inside. Shawn never really goes into Cory and Topanga's room because for reasons he doesn't quite understand it makes his stomach feel queasy. Now, though, he doesn't have a choice.<br/><br/>Cory's curled into a ball on the bed, knees pulled up to his chest.<br/><br/>"Sorry, Shawnie," Cory says, sounding like sad child put in timeout.<br/><br/>Shawn sinks down on the bed with Cory, stretches out, lying on his side facing his best friend. "You alright, Cor?"<br/><br/>"I feel like a screw up," Cory admits.</p><p>Shawn reaches out and clasps Cory's shoulder. "You're not a screw up, Cor. Trust me."<br/><br/>"Topanga and Eric have these big jobs and they're going places and I feel like I'm not doing anything," Cory says.<br/><br/>Shawn rubs Cory's shoulder gently. "That's not true. We've got jobs. I thought you liked our jobs."<br/><br/>Cory uncurls himself, lying parallel to Shawn. His eyes are big and brown and sad. They remind Shawn of a deer's. "I do," he says and sounds like he means it. "I just see them with their briefcases and think--"<br/><br/>Shawn puts his hand on Cory's cheek to make him look at him. "Cory. You are not a screw up, okay? It takes one to know one and I'm telling you, you're not."<br/><br/>Cory's face changes, morphing from sadness to concern. "Shawnie, you're not a screw up. How many times have I told you--"<br/><br/>And now they're back onto that familiar dance, Shawn thinks.<br/><br/>"Hypocritical, much?"<br/><br/>"You and your big poetic words," Cory says and Shawn can't help the laugh that pushes it's way out. He rarely can, when Cory's concerned.<br/><br/>Cory laughs too then, goofy and a little too loud in the empty apartment. Shawn's always liked it, the way their laughs bounce off each other, reverberate. A symphony of laughter, not that he's ever actually been to one.<br/><br/>Cory's sad face has become a smile, edging into a grin. "We can be screw ups together. It's always fun when it's me and you."<br/><br/>He punctuates his declaration with a yawn, starting to look tired. Shawn starts to move, starts to get up to go back to the room he and Eric shared, but Cory reaches out and puts a hand on his side.<br/><br/>"Stay," Cory murmurs through another yawn, so Shawn does. He'd do anything Cory told him to do, even if it was leaving right this moment and never coming back, but staying? He'll gladly do that.<br/><br/>Cory keeps his arm slung around Shawn's waist and closes his eyes. He looks so young with his eyes closed, not young enough to be an adult. Not young enough to be married.<br/><br/>Shawn closes his eyes and thinks about Anna's rejection, thinks about every time anyone's ever told them they were too close or given them a weird look. If he wanted to prove them wrong, he'd pull away, go back to his own perfectly good bed.<br/><br/>He doesn't.<br/><br/>*** After that, it becomes a habit.<br/><br/>Shawn doesn't mean it to, but Cory keeps asking him to stay and he keeps happily obliging. It's not a good habit, he's pretty sure, not when Cory's married. It's not normal for two twenty-year-old guys to sleep together, especially when one of them has a wife.<br/><br/>But they keep doing it and it starts to become Shawn's favorite part of the day -- lying with Cory in the dark room, shades drawn, talking about their night, about TV shows, about the mime they saw in the park until they drift off to sleep. It reminds him of elementary school, how they used to convince Cory's parents to let them sleep in the tree house on warm summer nights.<br/><br/>With the new sleeping arrangement, they curl even further around themselves, the boundaries between them dissipating to faint ghosts. They're never more than a few feet apart anymore. At work, the kitchen is small and their elbows bump, their shoulders brush. At the apartment, they're constantly next to each other, even when Eric and Topanga are around. Eating dinner at the tiny table, pushed close together, even closer then Cory and Topanga or sharing a couch cushion when there's a perfectly good one right next to it.<br/><br/>It's a testament to how close they've always been that no one seems to notice. Well, that and how tired Topanga is at the end of the day, working long hours at the internship and studying out of an LSAT book bigger than any in the John Adams High library every other minute.<br/><br/>Still, at some point, Shawn knows everything is going to come crashing down. That's just how things work, at least things he's involved in. You get too close to the flame, you get burned. You make cigarettes your poison, you did of lung cancer, coughing up blood in your double wide.<br/><br/>It's only a matter of time.<br/><br/>***</p><p>When Eric finds out that they're sleeping together (and God does that sound so much worse than it is) he gives them a long look, as if they're bugs under a microscope.<br/><br/>Shawn had been sleeping, dreaming about a water gun fight they had in sixth grade, when the opening of the door woke him up. Eric stood in the doorway, shirt half unbuttoned eyes wide and questioning. It takes Shawn barely a second to get his bearings and realize that this looks bad.<br/><br/>They'd been sleeping facing each other, Cory's head tilted so it was near Shawn's collar bone, Shawn's arm slung across Cory's side. Cory had on a pair of airplane pajamas he'd had since high school, but Shawn had taken off his shirt to try and get cool.<br/><br/>Shawn sits up quickly, removing his hand from Cory's body as if it were on fire. He stares at Eric, defensive, on guard, and waits for the other boy to make a move.<br/><br/>Eric's an idiot and a goofball, but he's not a complete imbecile. He can read people. It's why he got the salesman job quick, why he works his way into so many weird situations. Shawn can sense him reading them now.<br/><br/>When they were kids and Shawn slept over at the Matthews, they used to curl up together in Cory's bed, a single pile of bony, preteen limbs. Sure, Mrs Matthews would set up a cot with clean sheets stretched tight over the thin, fold up mattress, but that was always a formality for them. Eric knew, of course he knew with barely three feet between his and Cory's beds, but he never said anything. It didn't matter to him.<br/><br/>That was a long time ago. They were boys then. Cory wasn't married then. This is a completely different situation and they both know it.<br/><br/>Finally, Eric says, "Get Cory up. I wanna know when Dad's birthday is."<br/><br/>Shawn squints. "Isn't it in the winter?"<br/><br/>Eric rolls his eyes. "I don't want to miss it, idiot. I figured I'd send the card early so it gets there on time."<br/><br/>That makes literally no sense, but then when has Eric ever made sense? Not since he and Cory were maybe twelve.<br/><br/>Shawn gently shakes Cory's shoulder. "Cor."<br/><br/>Cory stirs and murmurs something that sounds like a garbled, "Sorry, Grandma."<br/><br/>"Cor, Eric's here."<br/><br/>That wakes Cory up. He jolts, blinking back sleep. Cory's always cute in the morning, Shawn thinks and then banishes the thought. That's not a good thought for right now, he tells his brain.<br/><br/>"Huh?" Cory asks, pulling himself into a sitting position.<br/><br/>"When's Dad's birthday?"<br/><br/>"It's in January," Cory says, sounding confused.<br/><br/>"What day?"<br/><br/>"The fifteenth. Eric, what--?"<br/><br/>Eric crosses his arms. "I'm going to be on time for once. This year is my year!"<br/><br/>"If it's January, isn't it next year?" Shawn quips.<br/><br/>"Shut up, Hunter," Eric says. "I've got to go write that down and then we're going to talk."<br/><br/>When Eric's gone, Shawn slides out of bed and shrugs on a shirt and jeans that are lying on the floor, not looking at Cory.<br/><br/>Cory, having just realized the situation, looks scared. "Did he see--?"<br/><br/>Shawn hears the unspoken me and you cuddling on the bed in the air, and sighs. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah."<br/><br/>"Oh." Cory looks small and worried. He rubs his hands together hard. "Shawn--" he starts, his voice high and cracky in a way it hasn't been since puberty.<br/><br/>"It's fine, Cory," Shawn says, even though it doesn't feel fine. "It's just Eric."<br/><br/>Shawn slips out the bedroom, pushing at his hair. Eric's bent over the calendar they got for free at the Chinese takeout place, presumably scribbling down the date. Shawn doesn't point out that they've already passed January this year so it really won't matter what he writes.<br/><br/>Cory follows Shawn out, still in his pajamas. "Eric?" Cory asks, questioning.<br/><br/>Eric hangs the calendar on the wall and then turns around. There's an odd look on his face,the kind of look that makes Shawn want to run to the window and scale the fire escape. He's never seen a look like that on Eric's face.<br/><br/>"You're my little brother, Cory," Eric says. "I love you."<br/><br/>Cory blinks and shifts. "Eric, what are you talking about?"</p><p>Cory's face is red and white in an alternating pattern like some sort of screwed up chess board.<br/><br/>"Hey, hey, hey," Eric huffs. "I'm not done. I love you, but I love old Pangers too. I mean, she's smoking, so--"<br/><br/>"Is there a point to this, Eric?"<br/><br/>"I'm getting there. Patience is a virtue, Cory. What I'm saying is, don't you dare hurt her. If you're doing something to hurt her, stop okay?"<br/><br/>Cory blinks and stares down at the floor. "I'm not doing anything," he says, sounding small, young.<br/><br/>Eric gives him a look, then glances over at Shawn. "I always wondered about you two," he says. "Anywho, I'm going out. I've got a hot date."<br/><br/>"With who?" Shawn asks.<br/><br/>Eric grins. "A doctor."<br/><br/>When Eric leaves, a tense silence dawns. Cory paces, walking in circles around the sagging second hand couch. Shawn goes over to the cover maker and starts a pot the way he does every day for them. "Cor--" he starts.<br/><br/>"A doctor?" Cory asks, laughing but it sounds fake. "Eric can't be dating a doctor."<br/><br/>Shawn shrugs. He watches the coffee brew and listens to the soft bubbling. "Anything's possible."<br/><br/>Okay, he thinks. Okay, we won't talk about this.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>It turns out Eric does have a girlfriend and his girlfriend is a doctor.<br/><br/>"But not a doctor, doctor," Cory points out over dinner, stuffing ramen noodles in his mouth.<br/><br/>"Yes, a doctor," Eric insists. "I'm dating a doctor!"<br/><br/>"A doctor of philosophy," Cory says. "That's different."<br/><br/>"You realize I'll be a doctor, right, Cory?" Topanga asks. "A juris doctor, I mean."<br/><br/>"But not a doctor, doctor," Cory says, waving his spoon. "Right, Shawn?"<br/><br/>Shawn gives Topanga a sheepish look. "I mean, I'm not sure I'd want you doing open heart surgery on me."<br/><br/>"See? Shawn agrees with me!"<br/><br/>Topanga's face twists up in an unhappy expression. "Of course he does," she murmurs darkly.<br/><br/>Shawn looks away and stuffs a handful of ramen into his mouth.<br/><br/>"So, anyway, I'm going to move out," Eric says, food in his mouth.<br/><br/>There's a pause and Cory blurts out, "You're moving out?"<br/><br/>Eric rolls his eyes. "Are we doing this again? I thought you were over it. I'm moving in with Sandra."<br/><br/>"Who's Sandra?" Cory asks loudly.<br/><br/>"The doctor!" Topanga responds, sounding frustrated.<br/><br/>"The fake doctor," Shawn specifies helpfully.<br/><br/>"Oh," Cory says.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>Eric moves out the last week of August.<br/><br/>Mr Matthews drives up from Philly to help him move since none of them have a car. In the short time he's been in New York, Eric's possessions seem to have grown enormously. It takes Eric, Cory, Shawn, and Mr Matthews five trips to get them down to the car and another five to get them up to the new apartment.<br/><br/>Sandra's already there, dressed in a tank top and shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Cory gestures (un)surreptitiously  between Eric and Sandra. How, he mouths to Shawn. Shawn just shakes his head and shrugs, trying to convey he's just as baffled as Cory.<br/><br/>Eric introduces Sandra as Dr. Sandra to his dad and Cory and Shawn break out in barely hidden giggles. Cory elbows Shawn and murmurs, "Doctor."<br/><br/>Eric shoots them a dark glare and introduces them to Sandra as his idiot brother and his idiot brother's idiot friend. Mr Matthews frowns, but doesn't correct him.<br/><br/>Afterwards, Mr Matthews drives them back to their apartment and comes up for a cool drink, their shirts still sweat soaked from the heavy lifting.<br/><br/>It's a Saturday and Topanga's at her internship so they've got the place to themselves. Shawn opens the fridge and doles at Cokes before Mr Matthews can look inside and see they haven't got any real food that isn't frozen or microwavable, save a lone apple.<br/><br/>Cory's dad asks them about their jobs, about how they like New York. About Topanga's work and how the heck Eric started dating that blonde bombshell.<br/><br/>"So," Mr Matthews asks when they're almost done with their pops, "You thinking about getting your own place, Shawn?"<br/><br/>Shawn gulps, wishing he had another sip to down. He shrugs. "Dunno. Might, sir."</p><p>"It's a lot easier with him here," Cory says defensively. "We work the same hours and all. Company. Plus, do you know how expensive it is in New York, Dad?"<br/><br/>Mr Matthews nods. "I see," he says and maybe he does see. Maybe he sees more than them. Maybe he always has. He's giving them that look he used to give them when they shared a blanket on the couch, confined to one cushion even though there were two others, Cory's head suspiciously close to Shawn's shoulder.<br/><br/>When Mr Matthews goes to leave, Shawn sticks out his hand a tad awkwardly, but Cory's dad shakes his head and pulls him in for a hug.<br/><br/>"Walk me out, Cory," Mr Matthews says and Shawn watches them go, wishing fleetingly for his own dad. He throws away the cans into the trash, then remembers that Topanga started a recycling bin and puts them in there.<br/><br/>When Cory comes back, there's a worried frown on his face.<br/><br/>"You okay?" Shawn asks, because he knows Cory.<br/><br/>Cory shakes his head. "Can we go check out that arcade we saw the street over?"<br/><br/>Topanga will be home in forty-five minutes, expecting to hear all about the Big Eric Move Out.<br/><br/>Shawn grins. "Sure."<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>The next day when they're lying down, halfway to sleep, Cory murmurs quietly, "My dad told me I have to be a better husband."<br/><br/>He's not looking at Shawn. They're facing each other, but Cory's not looking Shawn in the eyes, gaze trained somewhere below.<br/><br/>"Oh," Shawn exhales.<br/><br/>"He told me that it sounds like I'm always with you and never Topanga and how am I spending any time with her if I'm working nights and I don't know..." Cory trails off, obviously upset.<br/><br/>Shawn can see tears in his eyes and it scares him.<br/><br/>"C'mere, Cor," Shawn murmurs and pulls Cory towards him, keeping an arm firmly around Cory. Cory presses his face into Shawn's shirt and Shawn rubs circles on his back. "It's okay."<br/><br/>Cory doesn't say anything, but he nods into Shawn's shirt. It's an old shirt, thin and soft and fraying, a relic from when he was fifteen or so. Simpler, easier times, even if they didn't know it then.<br/><br/>"We'll figure it out, okay? Maybe you can work day shifts or something. We could ask the manager or maybe Cheryl could switch with you."<br/><br/>"I like how it is, though," Cory says, this time moving his face outward so his words are clear.<br/><br/>"Oh." Shawn's not sure what to do with that.<br/><br/>"Shawnie?" Cory asks, back to having his face stuck in Shawn's shirt.<br/><br/>"Yeah, Cor?"<br/><br/>"Sometimes I wish it was you and me." His words are fast, running together, the way Cory gets when he's nervous.<br/><br/>"It is you and me. Shawn and Cory, Cory and Shawn. It'll always be you and me. You know that."<br/><br/>Maybe it shouldn't be, but it always is.<br/><br/>"Sometimes I wish it was just you and me," Cory says, putting an odd emphasis on the just.<br/><br/>Cory's not looking at Shawn. His eyes are closed tight, his fingers clenched. He inhales a quick breath, than another, than another. He's freaking out, Shawn realizes.<br/><br/>Shawn tightens his hold on Cory. "You mean you--?"<br/><br/>"Don't want to be married?" Cory interrupts, finishing his sentence. "I don't know! Maybe. Yeah. God, Shawn I'm literally a horrible person. I'm literally--"<br/><br/>"Stop. You're not a horrible person. You're..." <em>the best person I know.</em> "You're good, Cor. You're good."<br/><br/>Shawn hugs him tight, as tight as he can. "We'll figure this out," he says.<br/><br/>They figured out how to get them together. They can figure out how to get them apart, too.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>The next week is tense.<br/><br/>Cory and Shawn don't talk about Cory's admission, but it hangs over them like a wet blanket. Without Eric to lighten the mood, the entire apartment feels different. Cory and Topanga bicker over little things -- where they store groceries, which show to watch, whether to use paper plates or not. Twice, their arguments involve screaming and shaking fists.<br/><br/>Shawn watches, truly observing for once.</p><p>A weird feeling has settled over him. He spent the last five years trying to get them together, trying to keep them together, and then trying to get them back together and now he's starting to realize that maybe that wasn't the right move. That maybe he and Cory were forcing something that wasn't good for either of them.<br/><br/>Whatever the truth is, it becomes clear after Eric leaves that there's a third wheel in the apartment.<br/><br/>It's not Shawn.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>The first week in September, Shawn finds Topanga bent over her LSAT book, silent tears running down her face. Cory's out grocery shopping because he actually likes grocery shopping, likes pushing a cart through narrow, crowded aisles, and pouring over the weekly specials pamphlet for coupons.<br/><br/>"Topanga," Shawn breathes out quietly and she wipes her eyes quickly.<br/><br/>"Sorry," she says. "I was just--"<br/><br/>Shawn makes a split second decision and takes a seat across from Topanga at the table. "Are you okay?" He asks.<br/><br/>"Yeah, I'm--"<br/><br/>"You're not," Shawn says. "What's the matter?"<br/><br/>Topanga hitches in a breath and Shawn bumps their hands together. Not holding hands, not even resting it over hers, but there, in the same place, pressed together.<br/><br/>"I feel like everything's falling apart. I feel like it shouldn't be this hard." Her voice is choked with tears.<br/><br/>"Hey," Shawn says, brushing dust off his best comforting voice. "Being a lawyer's hard as --"<br/><br/>"Not school," Topanga snaps, eyes blazing. "My marriage."<br/><br/>"Oh."<br/><br/>She stands up and grabs a Kleenex from a box that advertises a lavender scent. "I feel like I'm losing him. I keep trying and trying and he--" her voice breaks and she has to stop.<br/><br/>Shawn stands up. "I'm going to hug you," he says and then he does, pulling her close to him. She rests her face against his shoulder and he feels her tears.<br/><br/>"Everything's fine between you two. Everything's always great between you two."<br/><br/>"That's not--"<br/><br/>"It is. You fight for two seconds and then you're back to being...best friends."<br/><br/>Shawn gives her a tight squeeze. He wonders about the pause in her voice, if she thought of saying something other than best friends.<br/><br/>"He loves you more than me," she says and he doesn't deny it. It's always been a thing, always been a question since they were kids, but he thinks he's starting to know the answer. He should feel better now, but he's not sure he does.<br/><br/>"He loves you," Shawn says instead, because Cory does love her. They might not be working, but that doesn't mean he loves her any less then he ever did. "I care about you, too."<br/><br/>Shawn doesn't say he loves her because he's always been bad at saying that to anyone who isn't Cory, but he does. He hopes she knows that.<br/><br/>Topanga's his north star, bright and radiant in the sky of all his casual acquaintances, all the girls he kissed as a kid and all the guys whose hands he slapped in the hallway.<br/><br/>She's his north star. It's not her fault Cory's always been his sun.<br/><br/>***  <br/><br/>During that second week, Shawn wakes up to an empty bed and goes in search of Cory.<br/><br/>He finds him in the bathroom, knees pulled up to his chest, head buried in them so Shawn can't see his face, just his old brillo hair.<br/><br/>"What's up?" Shawn asks. If he didn't know better, he'd think Cory was hungover. Then again, maybe that's just a relic of being the child of an alcoholic.<br/><br/>Cory's still for a second. Two seconds. Ten seconds. Then, he looks up.<br/><br/>His face is pale, his eyes red as if he's been crying. He blinks up at Shawn and opens his mouth, but no words come out.<br/><br/>Shawn gives him a second, then sinks down to the floor, the chipped blue tile cool through his sleep shorts. He puts his hands on Cory's shoulders, presses them there. "Cor."<br/><br/>"I think I'm gay," Cory says. "Like gay, gay. Like--"<br/><br/>Shawn stops Cory's talking by enveloping him in a hug. It's probably not what you're supposed to do, but it's what's always worked for them. Anyway, there's probably no pamphlet anywhere on what to do when your best friend comes out to you on the floor of the bathroom you share with him and his wife.</p><p> </p><p>When Shawn finally pulls back, he gives Cory a sharp look. "You know I don't care, right? You're always going to be my best friend."<br/><br/>Cory gives him a watery nod. "Yeah."<br/><br/>Shawn nods back. "Good."<br/><br/>Shawn could say right about now that he's thought he was probably bisexual since he was seventeen. He doesn't. Instead, he says, "Let's go back to bed."<br/><br/>So they do, curling around each other, closer than ever before. If there was ever a time to pull back, it would be now, but Shawn doesn't. He doesn't want to.<br/><br/>Instead, he pulls them closer together and finds he's not even surprised when Cory tilts his face upward and brings their lips together.<br/><br/>Maybe his whole life has been leading up to this moment. Maybe every interaction they've ever had, every hug, every handshake, every time they danced like idiots, has been leading up to this.<br/><br/>Cory's lips are soft and gentle against Shawn's and it feels him with warmth. Its chaste, but it feels more powerful than any makeout session ever. It feels like coming home. No, it feels like discovering the home he's never had, finding what he's always been searching for.<br/><br/>***</p><p><br/>Cory tells Topanga almost immediately.<br/><br/>It's the kind of person he is. He can't deal with bad things, with infidelity and betrayal. It'll eat away at him from the inside, rot away his organs until there's nothing left but a husk of skin.<br/><br/>There's a part of Shawn that admires him for that. It's not who he is, but maybe he wishes it were.<br/><br/>Topanga doesn't take it well. Then, again, Shawn doesn't know if anyone can take it well.<br/><br/>She stands very still for all of two minutes and none of them move a muscle. Shawn can feel the blood draining from his face like a river and he can see it draining from Cory's and Topanga's. Finally, Cory shakes his hands the way he does when he gets stressed and says, "Say something!"<br/><br/>"I should've known," she says, who voice filled to the brim with anger and hurt. "I did know. God, I did."<br/><br/>After that, there's screaming and crying and sobbing. If there were plates to break that weren't cheap plastic or paper, they would be broken. Topanga cries and yells. Cory mostly just cries. Shawn stands there awkwardly, somewhere between a mistress and moral support, and feels like he's a child watching his parents fight.<br/><br/>By the time it's over, there are tears in his eyes too.<br/><br/>When they're finally all yelled and cried out, Topanga takes a seat at the table heavily. "I think you two should leave," she says. "For the night. Come back tomorrow and we'll figure it out."<br/><br/>So, they leave. They're almost out the door when Topanga calls them back. "You forgot toothbrushes, idiots," she says and hands them to Shawn. Her eyes are still red, her face still blotchy, but Shawn hears the affection in her voice.<br/><br/>It's the first time he realizes that things are going to be okay.<br/><br/>Later, they lay together in a cheap hotel room, sharing breaths and kisses.<br/><br/>"Love you, Shawnie," Cory murmurs sleepily.<br/><br/>"Love you too, Cor."<br/><br/>Shawn squeezes Cory tighter and presses a kiss to his forehead, listening as Cory's breaths even out. There's a prickling feeling at the base of his spine and Shawn wonders briefly if it's a bed bug. They had those in their trailer once. He doesn't get up or let go of Cory to check.<br/><br/>Shawn kind of hates himself now. For Topanga, alone in the apartment, probably sleeping in the bed he and Cory slept together so many times over in. For Cory's parents, who certainly want a daughter-in-law and grandchildren who don't look like horses. For Cory, Cory in his soft plaid pajamas, eyes closed tight.<br/><br/>But, in the end, that doesn't matter. Shawn has hated himself on and off since he was eleven. It's never mattered, though,  because he's always loved Cory more.<br/><br/>(Cory's always loved him more too.)<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don't hate yourself. I ended it on that because it felt right, but loving someone else is not a substitute for loving yourself. Love yourself because I don't even know you and I think you're pretty cool! :))</p><p>Anyway, this was long sorry</p></blockquote></div></div>
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